The Daedra's Wrath
(A Lord of the Rings/The Elder Scrolls Crossover)
Chapter Four
"Are you hurt, Captain Malacabre?!"
Face down in the snow, Cassius lifted his head towards the call. The sudden avalanche had spooked his horse, and the steed had reared and snorted, tossing Cassius from the saddle, and bolted back down the road towards Colovia. Grumbling under his breath, the Watchman pushed himself to his feet, patting the powdery snow from his leather doublet. "I'm alright, Grelden." he called through the wall of ice. "My horse bolted with my supplies, but I'm unharmed."
On the other side, Grelden struggled with his own mount, patting the horse's chestnut flank. "Can you see a way through?"
Loth as he was to admit it, the entire
passage was blocked from cliff to cliff. "Nay, and I dare not climb it. Curse this rotten luck!" Cassius spat, kicking a nearby branch in frustration. "By the time I clear this by hand, winter will have come and gone."
"You needn't shift the wall by hand, Captain." Grelden replied, a hint of a smile on his face. "There's an old path about 100 yards behind you. It'll take you to a disused crossing in the hills. It's the long way around, but it'll get you over the border easily enough. I'll wait for you on the other side."
Cassius listened as Grelden whipped the reins, jigging his horse onward up the road, all the while cursing the avalanche. He estimated they'd lose several hours due to the backtracking and loss of horse. With bitter thoughts, Cassius turned, headed back down the road.
The night's snow had laid a thin drift across the disused path, and Cassius found it very rough going indeed. The snow had fallen a good foot thick, and before too long, his socks were sodden inside his tanned leather boots. He created a rise, panting lightly from the climb, and pressed on downwards through a knot of barren pines. A lesser man would have gotten lost amidst the tangle of trees and thorny bushes, but the Captain's superior tracking and hiking skills allowed him to keep to the path. Up ahead, the trees seemed to thin, and he felt his heart lighten for the first time since the avalanche. Beyond the clearing ahead, twin peaks rose sheer and sharp, marking the passage through the mountains and into Skyrim.
The clearing was empty, save for two stone statues. One, of an old misshapen and weather beaten God, the other standing a few feet away from the towering effigy, slightly taller than Cassius himself. It wasn't until the smaller of the two turned its head and hissed that Cassius realised it wasn't stone at all. The black cloak was covered in snow and ice, making it seem almost grey in appearance, and when it moved, Cassius unsheathed his sword. There was something that just felt... Wrong, about this grim spectre. "Who comes to the Shrine of Sauron?" the figure whispered.
A Daedra worshipper. Usually harmless, often radically zealous in their devotion... Sometimes murderous and deadly. Cassius had had past run-ins with the cultists, but now, he was more concerned with crossing the border at the present. This dark fellow seemed content to stand steady vigil at the broken shrine, and Cassius was more than willing to allow him to preach to the wolves and birds of the area. "A busy man." He said bluntly. "I was caught in an avalanche near the border, and have been forced to backtrack. I cannot linger and offer your Lord my services, however. I have urgent business in Sky-" He broke off, spying three mounds lying at the foot of the shrine. The one in the centre had something that looked oddly like a booted foot protruding from the rounded edge of the mound. "Murderer." he muttered, the pieces falling into place. "In the name of the Emperor, I command you to lay down any weapons on your person and fall to your knees." He raised his blade. "You're under arrest."
The Nazgul hissed. It may have been derisive laughter. "The name of your Emperor invokes no fear in me, mortal. I only answer to the summons of Mordor." Cold steel rang out across the clearing, and the Nazgul raised his own blade, stepping lithely through the snow. With a high, piercing shriek, he swung the sword high and fast, and Cassius met the blow, stumbling back under the force of the collision. Within seconds, he was forced to guard again, a tremor running up the bones in his arm.
This was no run of the mill Daedra nut, he surmised. No cultist /he/ ever saw wielded a blade with such precision, speed and strength. In fact, it was all he could do to protect himself, moving nimbly backwards to avoid having his guts spilled out on the snow. He parried, checked, sidestepped and dodged, until finally, he saw his chance.
The Nazgul had swung too fiercely, aiming for a killing blow. Cassius leaned backwards, avoiding the savage swipe, and pivoting, rammed his shoulder into the cloaked man's chest. With a shriek of rage, the Nazgul staggered, his blade falling from his grasp as he slipped, crashing into the stone shrine. "Yield or perish!" Cassius shouted, positioning himself and squaring his shoulders.
Slowly, the Nazgul rose to his feet. "I think not, Imperial. A Nazgul is not so easily bested..." The creature sucked in a deep breath, leaning backwards. "Fus... RO DAH!" A howl of wind burst from the Nazgul, the sound of his Thu'um echoing around the gully. Cassius was lifted off his feet, soaring into the air, slammed into a tree, and knew no more.
He awoke some time later, slung across a horse, a flickering torch swimming in his blurred vision. Slowly, as the shadows crept from his sight, he dimly made out Grelden's blunt featured profile striding along beside the steed. "Where... Am I?" he muttered groggily, pressing a hand to his aching temple. He could feel dried blood around a shallow wound.
"Not far from Helgen." Grelden replied gruffly. "I heard a boom of thunder from the pass and assumed you'd gotten stuck again. A good thing, too. If I'd waited any longer, I would have been trying to find you in the dark, and you'd have frozen before sunrise. What happened down there? I saw no signs of an avalanche."
"That's because there was none." Groaning, Cassius swung himself down off the horse. He longed for his pipe and tobacco, but his own mount had bolted with the last of his weed.
Grelden looked at the Ranger long and hard, eyes puzzling beneath his thick eyebrows. "Tell me what happened."
Cassius embarked upon his tale, beginning with the avalanche that split them up. He told the grizzled ex-Blade about his discovery of the shrine, the zealous cultist, the hastily buried corpses. When he uttered the name of Sauron, and the land of Mordor, all colour seemed to drain from Grelden's face as he blanched visibly. "This stranger..." he muttered, finally meeting eyes with the ranger. There was trepidation in his eyes. "He commanded the Thu'um, didn't he?"
"Thu'um?" Cassius dropped his gaze, racking his mind. "I'm not sure I know the word. It sounds familiar, however. Like a name in a barely remembered story."
"Tis a Nordic word. Few aside from the sons of Skyrim know of it. My father was a Nord, and my bedtime stories told of mighty warriors who fought not just with steel and iron and magic, but with their voice. They could ignite hearth and home with a phrase, break down stone with a roar, freeze the leaves off the trees with a whisper. This mighty strength was released through words of power, called a Shout." Grelden didn't need verbal affirmation; the look on Malacabre's face spoke volumes. "That explains the thunder I heard before I set out to find you. Gods, these are bleak tidings indeed."
"But what does it all mean?" Cassius queried, shooting a glance at his grim companion. "Who is this Sauron?" Grelden fell silent. His eyes were downcast and solemn, and he seemed to be lost in thought. Cassius was on the verge of prompting the old soldier once again, when he shook his head.
"These aren't topics for idle chat while the sun is sleeping." he muttered darkly. From his tone, Cassius could tell that no amount of questioning would yield the answers he so sought. "I'll return to Helgen in around a week. I'll explain everything I know then."
The pressed cobblestone path turned a corner ahead, sloping down as the trees thinned, and twinkling torchlight could be seen ahead, marking Helgen's position on the road. As much as Cassius longed to know more about his mysterious assailant, his heart was suddenly glad at the thought of a roaring fire, warm mead, and hot roasted meat.
At the fork in the path to Helgen, Cassius and Grelden said brief farewells. "You saved my life today, Grelden." Cassius said solemnly as they gripped hands.
Grelden shook his head. "Think nothing of it lad. You'd have done the same for me, I'm sure." The grizzled veteran swung himself up onto his horse one handed, tightly gripping the reins in one hand, his flaming torch in another. "I hope your new posting fares you well, Captain." Grelden dug his heels into the mare, turning her down the path into the woods, and before long, he was swallowed up in the trees.
Cassius set off towards Helgen, his mind weighed down by everything that happened today. None of it made sense at all; A powerful warrior of legend, rising from the shadows to stand as preacher to an unknown Daedric master? The Ranger couldn't make heads or tails of it, and his throbbing skull wasn't helping things. Silently, he prayed to the Divines that they'd give him the morning off; he needed to rest, and think.
He found the Barracks easy enough, and after a brief introduction with the Watchman on duty, he was led to the Captain's quarters. It was a bare room, with pine walls and flooring, an iron chair and scuffed writing desk in one corner, a comfortable looking straw bed in another. The hearth was barren, the grate cold, but a supply of wood and kindling had been supplied, and a few strikes of his flint and tinder was enough to start a merrily crackling fire, bathing the room in warmth and light. "Home sweet home." he muttered drily, kicking off his stained and soaked leather boots and socks, hanging them by the fire to dry.
Despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come to him. He took a satchel of tobacco and a flagon of mead from the stores, and stared into the fire, puffing thoughtfully at his pipe. It wasn't the attack in the mountains, nor the stranger's words that unsettled him so much as Grelden's reaction. The veteran had seen much in his life, no doubt. And his place amongst the Blades was testament to his stout bravery. But, in the flickering light of the torch on the march to Helgen, Cassius saw trepidation, unease, even fear in Grelden's eyes.
This much was plain to Cassius; Grelden knew something. More than he was letting on, at any rate. His tired mind conjured up pictures of a younger Travias Grelden, sitting in a dark room, surrounded by books of arcane lore and Daedric knowledge. Absurd, but anything was possible. All he knew was that he'd have to wait for the seasoned veteran's return to Helgen, and that worrying and over thinking wouldn't help at all. His duty was now with the Watchmen of Helgen, not fretting about the Daedra and their servants.